Beaten, Battered, Bruised
by Shufflebot
Summary: Stan knows his boyfriend is hiding something, but he isn't prepared for the revelation.
1. Chapter 1: Lies

**This story is not for the faint of heart.**

* * *

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 1: Lies

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Sixteen-year-old Kyle Broflovski looked over to his boyfriend, Stan Marsh, and sighed. He couldn't deal with Stan asking him about this.

"I fell down the stairs," Kyle replied, his tone seeming to indicate that it took a lot of effort.

"Nu-uh," Stan shook his head furiously, "You're not feeding me that crap again, you've been falling down the stairs every week for the past five years."

"Well I'm fucking clumsy!" Kyle yelled, causing Stan to flinch.

"Okay, Jesus," Stan said, his tone softened, "You know I worry about you. You've always got bruises on your face and you always wear long-sleeved shirts, is there a bully who's harassing you, I'll make them leave you alone."

"No one's bullying me," Kyle said, he bit his lip, "I fell down the stairs."

Stan sighed, "Fine, don't tell me, I won't push you," He turned to Kyle and put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm here to listen when you're ready to tell."

Kyle nearly spilt everything, but his wounds flared and he remembered what the consequences would be.

"Thanks," He mumbled instead.

Stan kissed his cheek and smiled as they waited for Kenny McCormick and Eric Cartman. They were waiting to go the movies as a fearsome foursome.

"I can't believe your parents give you a curfew of 7:30," Stan said, "Do you have any idea why?"

"No." _Yes._

"There's being overprotective and then there's just ridiculous."

"Yeah." _They're not being overprotective at all._

"Here they are," Stan said, seeing two people roughly the same height down the street. One was (as the school fitness program said) morbidly obese whilst the other wore an orange parka like a tortoise shell.

* * *

"What film are we going to see?" Stan asked as they walked to the cinema, why they did was a mystery, Stan had his own car.

"I wanted to see the Passion," Cartman frowned, "But they don't show it anymore."

"I wouldn't have gone if you were seeing that," Kyle replied.

"Well of course you wouldn't," Cartman said as if it was common knowledge, "Everyone knows that Jews ruin everything."

"Shut the fuck up Fatass!" Kyle flared and he shoved Cartman in the arm.

"AY! I'm not fat!" Cartman shoved him back, grinning in victory when Kyle winced.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, his brows knitted with concern.

"I fell down the stairs."

Cartman snorted, "Like every week."

Stan grabbed Kyle's wrist when he was about to lunge, he shook his head and Kyle calmed.

"I saw a trailer for a spy film from Britain called Kingsman," Kenny said to diffuse the tension, "Samuel L. Jackson's in it."

They did end up watching Kingsman and they all really enjoyed it, Kyle especially liked the part when Stan turned his head and kissed him for the best part of five minutes.

* * *

"What time is it?" Kenny asked when they stepped back out into the cold air.

"8:30," Cartman replied, checking his phone quickly.

Kyle's body stiffened, "Shit! I'm late!"

"Don't worry about it," Stan tried to reason with the panicking Kyle, "I'm sure your parents will understand if you say the film ran over."

"No, they won't," Kyle whimpered, "You don't understand. Nonononononononono."

* * *

Kyle sprinted home as fast as he could and saw his parents on the couch.

"Why are you so late Kyle?" Sheila asked with a glare.

"The movie ran over," Kyle whispered.

"LIAR!" Gerald shouted, "You told someone didn't you?"

"No!" Kyle cried, "I didn't, I swear."

"Go down to the basement," Gerald ordered, "You need some discipline."

Kyle slunk down into the basement and removed his jacket and shirt, his ushanka was taken off his head and they were laid neatly in a pile in the corner.

"Face the wall," Gerald commanded as soon as he and Sheila got down the stairs, he turned to address his wife, "Can you prepare the chair?"

Kyle hadn't heard of 'the chair' before, he heard a belt being unfastened and he braced himself, he cried out when he felt the hard leather strike his bare back. Sheila walked over and slapped him hard in the face.

"Be quiet!"

Kyle swallowed down another cry as the belt hit him again, and again and again. He lost count of the strikes, but his whole back was hot.

"You always misbehave, you're a disappointment to this family!" Gerald snarled.

Kyle cried out again when he felt the buckle slash across his back, being replied to by another slap from Sheila.

"Please stop," Kyle sobbed, his knees trembled but he refused to fall.

There was no reply, eventually the buckle stopped hitting him but he was lead over to an old wooden chair that had belts all over it, he was forced to sit with his forearms locked to armrests and his palms facing up.

"Do you know what happens if you tell?" Gerald asked condescendingly.

Kyle nodded through his tears.

"Tell us," Sheila instructed.

"You hurt Ike."

"Very good," Gerald said as if he was talking to a dog, "Now then, you get rewarded with the first use of this chair."

Sheila walked over and brandished a knife, she placed the blade on Kyle's wrist and took a swipe. Kyle grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out loud, she made more cuts down his forearm before moving to the other side and doing the same.

Gerald undid the belts holding Kyle down, "Remember your excuses, you fell down the stairs and you slit your wrists because you're a faggy pussy."

Kyle nodded.

"Clean your mess up."

Kyle had been hurting too badly to treat his injuries, so when his parents were asleep, he snuck out and went to Stan's.

It was time for Stan to know the truth.


	2. Chapter 2: Truth

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 2: Truth

It took Kyle far too long to make the short walk (or rather, limp) to his boyfriend's. He knew that Stan's parents weren't in, they were visiting Shelly in college. It was 3:30 am, but Kyle couldn't care less as he pounded on the front door.

Stan's eyes were bleary, but still angry when he opened the door, clad in only a T-shirt and boxer shorts.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Stan asked angrily but without venom, "I was asleep."

"I know," Kyle said, "I need help."

Stan's eyes softened, "What."

Kyle leant against the doorframe, "I need to tell you, _ahhh shit that hurts_ ," He whined as Stan pulled him into a hug.

Stan pulled away quickly, "Let's go to my room, we'll talk there."

Stan sat on his bed as Kyle stood sheepishly by the door.

"You know how I always fall down the stairs?" Kyle asked.

Stan nodded.

"And how, no matter how much I'm in love with you, I won't have sex with you. Even though I know we're still virgins so I don't need to be afraid of having to compare to other partners."

Stan nodded again.

"You won't want to have sex with me after this."

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked, his voice laced with concern.

Kyle took his jacket off as Stan turned a light on, Kyle took his shirt off and Stan gasped with complete and utter horror.

"Kyle, dude," Stan was lost for words as he walked over and bent down to get a better look at the assortment of cuts, bruises and scars. Kyle turned around to show that it was even worse on his back, Stan could quickly see that some of the marks on his back were recent. The ones from before were still bleeding.

Kyle held his arms out and showed the underside of his wrists, "That wasn't me."

Stan's blue eyes looked to Kyle's greens in astonishment. It was difficult to see the cuts on his wrists, they were just a red mess.

"Who?" Stan choked out, his eyes filling with tears as he pulled Kyle into a hug.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"You have to tell someone Ky," Stan sobbed, "This is abuse."

"Promise me."

"I can't."

"Promise me!"

"Kyle, I can't."

"PROMISE ME!"

Stan's heart snapped.

"If I tell someone, they'll go after Ike. I can't let them Stan."

Stan much against his better judgement said, "I promise, I won't tell a soul. But, you're spending more nights here, where I can protect you."

"It was my parents," Kyle sobbed into Stan's shoulder, "It started when I was eleven, now whenever I do something they think is bad, like scoring less than 100% on a test, or staying out after curfew, or coming out, or getting a boyfriend, they take me down to the basement and do this. If I tell anyone or fight back, they'll do it to Ike as well. When my ma first brought Ike home, I promised him that I'd protect him and keep him from harm."

Stan kissed Kyle gently before pulling out his computer chair, "I'll get the first aid kit."

Stan returned moments later with a green box and a fold-out chair. He opened the box to see if there was any disinfectant.

"We only have iodine disinfectant," Stan said, "It'll hurt like a bitch."

"It's okay," Kyle said as he sat so that Stan could easily access his back, "I trust you."

Stan had to take a deep breath to compose himself before applying the iodine. Kyle screamed out in agony as Stan made shushing noises with his mouth. It was even worse when it was applied to his wrists.

"It's okay," Stan soothed, "The hard part's over now."

Stan wrapped Kyle's arms in bandages and put some on his back as well.

"You're staying the weekend," Stan said, "I'm not letting you go back."

Kyle nodded.

"Let's get to bed," Stan said.

They both climbed into Stan's bed, Stan wrapped his arms tightly around his Jewish boyfriend and cuddled him close to his chest.

"Do you still want to have sex with me?" Kyle asked timidly.

"Of course I do," Stan whispered, "It's called making love for a reason."

"I've wanted to for a while," Kyle admitted softly, "I just didn't want you to see this."

"It's okay," Stan murmured into Kyle's hat, which he always wore to bed, "I'll wait."

"Would you be up for it now?"

Stan's eyes snapped open, "You sure?"

"I need you Stan."

That did it for Stan, he made sure to make Kyle feel like he was the most important person in the world. Kyle had been saying that he wasn't ready for three months and he had pulled the blankets over them while they did it.

"I'm so glad I let you do that," Kyle panted afterwards as Stan pulled out after releasing inside him, "That felt amazing."

Stan hummed in agreement as he wiped their stomachs of Kyle's cum with some Kleenex.

"Thank you," Kyle said softly as he cuddled close to Stan, "For being there when I needed you to be."

"I always will be," Stan replied.

"You're amazing," Kyle said, "You're amazing and perfect in every way."

"You're the bravest person I've ever met," Stan said, "Going through all of this to protect your brother."

"Can be brutally honest with you?"

"Of course."

Kyle cast his eyes away from Stan's, "I've thought about suicide before."

Stan tightened his grip around Kyle, "I can understand why, but don't ever do it."

"When I thought about you it brought me back."

Stan couldn't say much, just an… "Oh Kyle."

"I only have two good things in my life, you and Ike. You two stop me from going that far."

Stan kissed the back of Kyle's neck, "I'll always be here."

"I know."

"Never forget that."

"I won't."

Stan was still awake when Kyle's breathing became more regular, he saw that his boyfriend was asleep and attempted to get to sleep himself, but the worries were flitting too quickly around his mind for him to do so.

* * *

Stan still wasn't asleep when the clock struck ten the next morning, he could feel Kyle stirring beside and the redhead's eyes fluttered open. They stared at each other for a second when they heard a ringing from Kyle's pants. The Jew's eyes shot open and he bolted towards his jeans to see who was ringing.

"Hello?"

" _Where are you?_ "

Kyle flinched at his mother's growl, "At Stan's."

" _What did you tell him?_ "

"Nothing."

" _DON'T LIE TO ME!_ "

Kyle cringed, "I'm not, I came over at seven. I didn't want to wake because I would just be a bother."

Sheila was satisfied that Kyle seemed to be minding his words so that it didn't seem like anything was going on, " _We'll talk later._ "

Kyle eyed Stan who was still on the bed, now raised on an elbow, "Stan asked if I wanted to stay over for the weekend."

Sheila realised that Stan must be in the room, " _That's fine bubbeh, but you'll need to come home and get your things._ "

Translation – _Get home now so that you can be taught a lesson._

"Okay," Kyle breathed, "I'll be home soon."

Stan shot into a sitting position as Kyle hung up, "Dude! You can't go home!"

"If I don't go now it'll get worse."

"But…"

"If I don't go now, it'll seem like I told you. I have to go, for Ike."

Stan nodded and kissed Kyle gently, "Come back as fast as you can."

Kyle nodded.

* * *

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing," Kyle replied easily.

Sheila and Gerald bared down on him like wolves, Gerald quickly inhaled through his nose and his frown deepened.

"You fucked him didn't you?"

Kyle instantly regretted not having a shower that morning.

"DIDN'T YOU?"

Kyle nodded meekly. Gerald knocked his ushanka off his head and grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging him to the basement. He grabbed the knife that had been used to cut his wrists and used it to tear off his shirt, jacket and any bandages Stan had applied. He dug the knife into Kyle's stomach, but not deep enough to cause anything more than a scar. Sheila came down the basement stairs as Kyle cried out in agony, she slapped his face.

"Silence," She snarled, "It's for your own good bubbeh."

When Kyle came to, the basement clock read 12:00. He could see from the basement window that it was still light. A folded T-shirt and jacket lay next to him, meaning that Ike was home. He looked down at his body to see the damage, but there was too much blood to be able to discern anything.

He felt light-headed as he pulled on the shirt and jacket, his ushanka lay next to them and he pulled it on quickly. He clutched his stomach as he walked up the stairs. Ike was in the living room, so Sheila greeted him in a much more motherly way than he was used to.

"I filled an overnight bag for you to go to Stan's," She smiled, clearly fake, "It's by the door."

* * *

Stan's parents were home when he got there, but Stan answered the door and quickly took Kyle up to his room.

"Did they do anything?" Stan asked immediately, the first-aid kit was still in his room.

Kyle nodded and Stan immediately took his jacket and shirt off for him. The raven-haired teen flinched upon seeing the red mess that was his torso and walked to the bathroom to get a cloth.

"I'll have to use the iodine again," Stan said as he handed Kyle a sock, "Scream into that if it hurts, my parents will find out otherwise."

Stan wiped away the blood and shot back, his eyes teared up immediately and he bit into his fist to keep from bursting into tears.

"Holy shitting fuck," He choked out.

Kyle looked down at his stomach, his father hadn't just cut him with the knife... he had carved words into his stomach and chest.

 _Failure_

 _Worthless_

 _Faggot_

 _Slut_

Stan sprung back into action and grabbed the iodine. Kyle screamed into the sock and he sobbed in agony. Stan used a complete roll of bandages to wrap his body, making Kyle seem like a mummy, sobbing as well.

"You have to tell someone," Stan said as he fetched a clean shirt for Kyle, the Jew's own was soaked in blood.

"I can't."

"Yes you can," Stan immediately argued, "Tell the police, they'll get your parents and Ike will be safe. You have to, they'll kill you one of these days."

"And you'd trust the South Park police? You think I haven't thought about this?" Kyle replied, turning the computer chair away from Stan.

"Then we'll go to Denver, tell the police there. If they kill you, I'll kill myself."

Kyle whirled around to face him, "DON'T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!"

"Why not," Stan replied coolly, "It's true, you're my fucking life Kyle. Without you, I'd...,I'd…"

Kyle bit his lip, "Fine."

Stan was on the verge of bursting into tears again, "What?"

Kyle's voice was soft, "I said fine, we'll go to Denver. But if nothing's done, you shut up about it and don't bring it up again."


	3. Chapter 3: Sorting Out

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 3: Sorting Out

Kyle was silent during the car ride over.

"Hey," Stan said, "I know that you didn't want to tell anyone, but I couldn't let it go on."

Kyle turned his head away, "They better hadn't find out."

"They won't," Stan assured him, "They can't deny it, you're the evidence. They'll get arrested and you can live your life."

"Where will I go?" Kyle asked, "My only living relatives live in New Jersey."

"You'll probably be sent to a foster home like Kenny was that one time, it'll probably be somewhere close."

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement.

"No matter where you go, I'll always be there for support. If you get sent to the other side of the country, I'll come and visit you every chance I get."

Kyle nodded.

Stan reached over to rest his hand on Kyle's knee, "Are you pissed off at me?"

"Why?"

"Because you didn't want to tell anyone?"

Kyle sighed, "Not pissed off, but I'm not happy about this. I was dealing with it well enough."

"Dealing with it?" Stan asked incredulously, "Kyle, you've had words _carved into your chest_! No one should have to go through this, you've done nothing to deserve this."

"I disappointed my family."

"You can't seriously believe that! You have straight 'A's in AP classes, how can you be a disappointment?"

"I'm a faggot."

"Well so am I!" Stan yelled, "I'm not a disappointment to my family just because I'm gay!"

Kyle anger quickly grew to match Stan's, "My family is disappointed in me because I'm gay, that makes me a disappointment!"

"You're not a disappointment. The only people who are disappointed in you are those bastards who call themselves your parents. Ike thinks you're the greatest person in the world, he looks up to you. That means that you're not a disappointment to your family, your parents' opinion doesn't count anyway, they're not exactly saints."

Kyle thought this over and chose not to respond. Stan waited for his anger to calm before continuing.

"Let's get this done with, and keep Ike from any danger at all."

"If they find out that I told the police they'll hurt him so bad."

"What's stopping them from doing it now, from lying to you? If we tell the police, it removes any immediate danger."

"Nothing," Kyle mumbled.

Stan pulled over next to the police station before turning to look at Kyle.

"What you're doing for your brother is incredible," Stan said, turning Kyle's head to look at him, "I couldn't take all of this if I was in your situation. It all ends now."

Kyle nodded, "I wish I'd never admitted to the police that they didn't molest me."

Stan smiled and kissed him softly, "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Kyle walked behind Stan as they walked to the front counter, where a bored looking policeman was sitting.

"How can I help you?" The officer said monotonously.

"My best friend was abused by his parents," Stan said.

The officer sighed, "I'll get an interview room set up."

Kyle was the first to be interviewed.

"Hello there…"

"Kyle."

"…Kyle," A fat policeman said, "My name is Sergeant Smith. You said that you were abused by your parents."

"Yes."

"Was any of this abuse of a sexual nature?"

"No."

"Do you have any proof of your abuse?"

Kyle lifted his shirt and jacket to show the bandages covering his body.

The officer pointed to them, "May I remove them so I can see what where dealing with?"

Kyle nodded and took off his shirt and jacket. The officer unwound the bandages to see the scars, bruises and recent cuts.

"What were these wounds made with?"

"The bruises were made a belt and most of the cuts were made by the belt buckle," Kyle explained, trying his best to keep his emotions in, "The words and the cuts on my wrist were made with a knife."

Smith took some pictures with a camera before he sat back on the other side of the interview table and took some notes as Kyle redressed himself, "Can you explain how this started?"

"It started when I was eleven," Kyle said, starting to tear up, "It was just light cuffs around the head to start with, so I didn't think much of it. The cuffs started getting harder and were directed all around my body until one day when I was twelve. My dad took me to the basement and beat me with the belt, he said that if I told anyone, he'd hurt my brother too. So I did everything I could to hide it until early this morning when I told my best friend, he was the one who decided to drive up here."

"Why did he hurt you?"

"Anything that he and my mom decided was disappointing, she started to help him. Sometimes they did it just for fun, or to let out some anger if they had a bad day."

Smith nodded, "Where are you from? We obviously need to know where you live."

"I live in South Park, I would tell the police there, but they're kind of stupid."

Smith nodded, "You mentioned some people in your account, but kept them nameless. Would you mind telling us their names?"

"My dad's name is Gerald Broflovski, my mom is Sheila Broflovski."

"Your brother?"

"Isaac Broflovski, we call him Ike."

"Your best friend?"

"Stanley Marsh."

"Is he the one sitting outside?"

Kyle nodded.

"Will he be able to tell us anything new?"

"Only when the bruises on my face showed up. I was able to hide anything else. It's difficult for me to tell, my mom would always slap my face if I made a noise, I can't remember when the first bruise because of that showed up."

"I think we have everything that we need, what's your address?"

Kyle told Smith his address.

Smith slid over the sheet he was making notes on, "Can you read this and make sure nothing's missed out?"

Kyle read through the sheet and signed it to confirm that the information was valid.

"Thank you. All we need to do is process the information, because this is a severe case, it shouldn't take much longer than a day. Because you are the victim, you will probably need to make a testimony in court."

"Yes sir." Kyle said.

"Okay then, you may go."

Kyle left as quickly as he could and saw Stan sitting outside.

"Was everything okay?"

Kyle nodded, "Let's go home, I've had enough of this."

* * *

Stan and Kyle were going to play on the Gamesphere the next day when they saw police sirens going by the window, they dropped everything and rushed outside to see police dragging Gerald and Sheila out of the house as a crowd accumulated.

Gerald glared straight at Kyle, "YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

Kyle glared back, "YOU'RE GETTING WHAT YOU DESERVE ASSHOLE!"

Stan gripped Kyle's hand and kissed his temple, "They won't be able to deny it."

"Aw cool, the Jew rat's family is getting arrested."

They turned to see the large, lumbering frame of Eric Cartman, resident racist, sexist, homophobe, xenophobe, anti-Semite and fatass.

"Fuck off Cartman," Kyle growled, "I'm not in the mood for your shit right now."

"Well sorry Kyle," Cartman smirked, "But I'm not the one who's getting sent away to New Jersey to be raped by a Snooki."

Kyle was about to lunge, but Stan held him back.

"Ike's over there and he's looking upset," Stan said, pointing to the Canadian, "He needs his bro right now."

Kyle nodded and went to see Ike.

"Kyle," Ike sobbed into the older Jew's chest, "Why are they taking them away?"

Kyle bit his lip. Ike was only ten and it was a lot to dump on him, at the same time, Kyle should be the one who told. He hesitantly lifted his shirt and jacket to show Ike his torso.

"Because they did this to me," Kyle said, "And if I wasn't able to be quiet they would have done it to you too."

Ike, understandably, couldn't believe it, but why would Kyle lie about this?

"KYLE," Sheila screamed from across the front garden, where she was being bundled into the back of a police, "TELL THEM THAT WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

"WHY SHOULD I?" Kyle yelled back, "I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU TREAT IKE THE WAY YOU TREATED ME!"

Cartman's laughs could be heard over the entire crowd as the cars drove away.

* * *

Kyle was sitting in a courtroom, whilst he was still wearing his trademarked ushanka, he was also wearing a suit as he stared towards the front of the room where his father was giving an account at the stand as the prosecution lawyer paced in front of him.

"Kyle was always getting into trouble," Gerald said, feigning sorrow, "We used to ground him when he did something wrong, like when he was cheesing. But he would never learn and turned on us when he was eleven. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and…"

"THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT," Kyle yelled from the prosecution area.

"The prosecution will get their chance to speak," The judge said, "And tone down your language or you won't speak," He turned to Gerald, "Continue."

Kyle was shaking with rage as Gerald began to lie again.

"He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and turned on his mother, so I took off my belt and hit him with it. It was the only thing I could think to do at the time and I wish I could have done things differently."

Gerald broke down into fake sobs and was led to the defendant area by the defendant lawyer.

"The defendant would like to call the alleged victim, Kyle Isaiah Broflovski to the stand."

The prosecution lawyer opened his briefcase and handed Kyle some photos, he handed them to the judge and took his place at the stand.

"What are these?" The judge asked.

"Those are photos taken of my body yesterday when I went to the lawyer's office to talk everything through with my lawyer for this trial. If you don't believe that, I'll take my shirt off and show you, but I'd prefer it if I didn't have to show everyone in this courtroom. There are also photos of my face from a few weeks ago, right after I reported the crime."

"The jury will need to see these."

"That's fine, as long as the whole courtroom doesn't see."

The defendant lawyer cleared his throat to get Kyle's attention.

"Can you give your account of events?"

Kyle nodded, "It started when I was eleven, I didn't think much of it because it was only light cuffs around the head when I did something bad, like not get 100% on a test in school. But each time the cuffs increased in force and began increasing in power until a few weeks after my twelfth birthday. My dad took me down to the basement and made me take my shirt off. He beat me with the belt and said that if I told anyone he'd hurt my brother as well. I hid the bruises and cuts the best I could, I always wore long-sleeved shirts so that no one could see. I never did PE, which I hated because I loved basketball, my mom used to always write me a note. Whenever my friends wanted to go swimming I used the excuse that I had an accident on a boat trip on vacation and had become aquaphobic, my mom thought that one up…"

"That was a lie?" Stan was in the courtroom and had been asked to give a testimony.

The Judge banged his gavel.

"Yes it was," Kyle continued, his eyes had been tearing up, but he was keeping his composure in check, "It became difficult to hide after my mom had started leaving bruises on my face, I then used the excuses of 'I fell down the stairs' or 'I ran into a door'. I have a reputation for being pretty clumsy now. I finally told someone a few weeks ago, that was my best friend Stan. That was after my dad slit my wrists."

The defendant lawyer nodded, "Your father said you were always getting into trouble?"

"I tended to be sucked into things because of my friends, but yeah I did. What kid doesn't get into trouble? Every time I kept out of it, trouble had its way of finding me. I try to keep out of everything because I'm scared of getting beaten."

"You may be seated."

Kyle took his seat back in the prosecution area.

"The prosecution would like to call the witness, Stanley Randall Marsh to the stand."

"What relation are you to the victim?" The prosecution lawyer asked.

Stan looked at Kyle who nodded.

"I'm his boyfriend."

The only people who they had told were their families and Kenny, Cartman had found out by himself.

"You didn't actually know what was happening until recently?"

Stan nodded.

"Did you notice any changes in his behaviour?"

"Yes, and I wish I'd followed it up sooner."

"Why didn't you?"

"Kyle won't tell you anything until he's ready, no matter how much you ask him."

"Can you describe these changes?"

"He became a lot more closed off and didn't take part in much anymore. I just assumed it was puberty to start with, but then he showed up to school with bruises on his face and even though I knew something was wrong straight away, I just thought he'd tell me eventually, which he did. After three years."

Stan looked wracked with guilt as he gave his account.

"You may be seated."

Stan took his seat next to his mother and looked like he was going to break down as she wrapped an arm around him.

The jury left to make their verdict and returned soon after.

"We find the defendant guilty."

Sheila and Gerald were sentenced to ten years in prison, but requested to see Kyle before they were sent away.

"What do you want?" Kyle asked.

"We just want to tell you our opinions haven't changed."

"So I'm still a disappointment?"

"Yes."

"You're so stupid. I may not be the son you wanted me to be, but you're the disappointments in this family, you're the ones being sent to jail for child neglect, you're the ones who won't be able to get jobs when you get out, who won't have money because it's been given to me and Ike. So shut the fuck up and stay out of my life."

Kyle turned swiftly on his heel and walked over to where a still guilty Stan was.

* * *

 **I may have the trial completely wrong, so sorry for that. This isn't the last chapter, we still need to see how Kyle copes with his trauma.**


	4. Chapter 4: Starting to Cope

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 4: Starting to Cope

"This is your new foster home!"

Kyle and Ike were led inside by a police officer. The foster home was in South Park, so there wasn't as much change as Kyle expected. The police officer carried Ike's suitcase with some of his belongings, the rest were in the moving van packed in boxes.

"Hello boys," A middle-aged woman said as she emerged from a door and into the living room, "My name is Mary and my husband Walter is still in the kitchen, we hope your stay here is enjoyable."

Kyle leaned down to whisper in Ike's ear, "What is this, a foster home or a hotel?"

Ike chuckled.

"Why don't I show you your rooms and then we can get to know each other?"

Kyle's room was painted green, which was his favourite colour, the bed was up against the far wall in the corner and a TV stood on the chest of drawers opposite the foot of the bed. There were shelves lining the wall beside the door and a wardrobe in the far corner with a desk next to it.

Most of the day was spent unpacking and wiring up various game consoles. They all sat around the dining room table for dinner.

"Why don't you tell us about yourselves?" Mary said, "Why don't you go first Kyle?"

"My full name is Kyle Isaiah Broflovski, I'm gay, type one diabetic and I was beaten by my parents for five years."

Ike nudged him, "Cool it."

Kyle shrugged, "I'm just getting the heavy stuff out there."

Ike turned to Mary, "Sorry about him, he's always had a short temper. He's probably bitter about what mom and dad did to him."

Mary nodded, "That's understandable."

"So you're gay?" Walter asked.

Kyle nodded, "Is there a problem?"

"No, of course not. Just making conversation. Do you have a boyfriend?"

Kyle nodded, "I spend a lot of time over at his place."

"Well, he's welcome here anytime."

Kyle nodded.

"He'll probably be really protective of you now," Ike said.

"We'll find out on Monday," Kyle replied, "Apparently the whole thing was in the news, we're going to be asked endless questions."

"Are you sure you want to go to school?" Mary asked, "You can take the week off if you'd like."

"No thanks, I'm in AP classes, I can't afford to miss school. My boyfriend picks me up in the morning."

* * *

Kyle was shaken awake during the night.

"Wha… Ike?"

The Canadian shuffled on his feet nervously, "I wanna go home."

"We can't."

Ike sighed, "Can I sleep with you?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and shifted over so Ike could climb into the bed with him.

"Did you really take all of the beatings to protect me?"

"Yes, I did," Kyle replied, "And if I had to protect you, I'd do it all over again."

"Don't say that," Ike whined as he curled up to his brother's chest.

Kyle just hummed and hugged Ike close to his chest.

"Why would you want to protect me? I'm not even your real brother."

"Yes you are. I protected because you're my brother and I love you. When ma first came home with you, I promised her and you that I would protect you, no matter what it took. I'm not going to go back on my word, not now, not ever."

"You're the best brother ever."

Kyle grinned, "I try."

* * *

True to Kyle's word, Stan pulled up outside on Monday to drive him to school.

"How's your new home?" Stan asked as he pulled away from the curb.

"It's okay," Kyle replied, "My carers keep trying to learn everything about my ordeal even though I don't want to talk about it."

"They're only trying to help, bottling it up isn't good."

"It's worked fine for me," Kyle said sharply.

"And it'll come out in ways like that, being hostile for no reason."

Kyle huffed.

"I'm not going to force you to tell me," Stan said, "But I'm here when you're ready."

* * *

All chatter ceased when they stepped through the doors into the school. Kyle could feel everyone's eyes on him as he walked through the corridors to his locker. As he got his books out he slapped his forehead.

"I forgot my biology homework."

Stan shrugged, "With everything you've been through recently, I'm not surprised. Your teacher will probably let you off."

"Can you come with me, I need to tell her?"

Stan nodded and followed him to the biology lab, the biology teacher did let him off, giving him a hug and telling him he was brave.

Other than the staring, everything was normal until lunch.

"Ey, Jew."

Kyle turned to see Cartman leaning against some lockers.

"I bet you're loving all the attention."

"Fuck off fatass," Kyle replied, "I'm not, I just want everything to go back to normal."

"It won't happen for a while."

"I don't want pity, I'm no different than before."

"If you want to be able to say that, you need to get over it."

Kyle growled and lunged at Cartman, grabbing his collar and forcing him against the lockers.

"Get over it? Do you think it's that easy asshole? I have scars that I'll have for the rest of my life, I _can't_ get over it!"

A crowd began to accumulate around them.

"You always complain about your mom because she's a whore. At least she fucking cares! You've got it good you fucking asshole!" Kyle unzipped his jacket and lifted his shirt, "That's what my parents did to me! SO FUCKING DON'T TELL ME TO GET OVER IT!"

Cartman looked down at Kyle's chest and was rendered speechless, he just flapped his mouth like a fish out of water.

Kyle was breathing heavily through his nostrils, he could hear the crowd behind him shuffling to try and get a view of his body. He released Cartman and whirled around, causing a collective gasp to run through the crowd.

"You've all been staring at me all day!" Kyle snarled, "Why don't you just fucking see what happened to me since you can't keep out of my fucking business! Take a fucking picture, it lasts longer!"

"Holy shit!" Kyle heard Token from in the crowd.

"What the fuck?" Clyde yelled.

"AAAHHH!" Tweek screamed.

Craig flipped him off.

"Okay," Came a voice from the back of the crowd, "You've all seen it, now go and leave him alone. It's bad enough without you all staring at him like he's a circus freak."

Kyle turned to see the parka-clad figure of Kenny McCormick shooing the crowd away.

"Thanks," Kyle said as Kenny got close to him.

"No problem," Kenny gave him a thumbs-up, "Stan's looking for you, says you need to take your insulin."

"Oh fuck I forgot. Where is he?"

"He's by the nurse's office."

Kyle returned Kenny's thumbs-up and ran to the nurse's office. Stan was standing outside.

"Dude, I heard what you did," Stan said as Kyle ran over to him, "That was brave."

"I completely lost it," Kyle said, falling onto Stan and allowing himself to be wrapped up in a hug, "I just saw red so quickly and I just lost it."

"At least people know the truth and not rumours."

"I didn't want them to know the truth!"

Stan bit his lip, "How many of them will scar forever? You told Cartman that some would."

"Most of the ones on my back, some of the ones on my front and the words."

"Jesus Christ."

Kyle pulled away from the hug and went to get his insulin without another word.

* * *

Stan should have been doing his homework, but something was bugging him. It had been since the night Kyle told him about the beatings, but he couldn't tell what it was. He replayed the events in his mind for what seemed like the millionth time until it hit him like a ton of bricks. He quickly grabbed his phone and called Kenny.

" _Stan? What's wrong?_ "

"Meet me at Stark's Pond," Stan said hurriedly as he pulled his jacket on, "I need your help."

No more than five minutes later, Stan and Kenny were sitting on the bench overlooking the pond.

"What's wrong?" Kenny asked, his hand on Stan's shoulder.

"I used Kyle," Stan blurted and proceeded to fidget in place.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Kenny said, "Calm down and tell papa Kenny the whole story."

"It was when Kyle first told me about the beatings," Stan explained, "He came over, told me what happened and let me dress his wounds. We got into bed and he said how he had wanted to have sex and that he only stopped me because he didn't want me to see his wounds. He asked me to have sex with him, he said he needed me."

"And…"

"And we had sex, but he had been beaten and he was so fragile and I took advantage of him."

Stan started hyperventilating, Kenny slapped his hands down onto the taller boy's shoulders.

"First thing to do is calm down, I don't know how to treat you if you have an asthma attack."

Stan always took his inhaler with him and he quickly took a puff to regulate his breathing, he was openly sobbing now.

"Second thing is to apologise, he might not feel that way. Tell me in as much detail as you want, how did you treat the sex?"

Stan took a deep breath, "I wanted to make him feel like he was the most important thing in the world, he is to me. I just wanted to show him how much I love him."

Kenny nodded, "So you didn't plough his brains out, that shows that you didn't see him as a toy. Did he say anything afterwards?"

"He said it was amazing and that he was glad we did it. Then he talked about suicide but that was unrelated."

"He said he was glad you did it, so why are you so guilty?"

"Because it was his first time and I didn't make it special, I stole his virginity by using him when he wasn't in the right frame of mind."

"By that logic, he stole yours as well," Kenny pointed out.

"Yeah, but I was the one more able to make conscious decisions. I ruined his first time and tossed away mine. Don't get me wrong, I wanted it to be with him. Just not in that situation."

"I think you're making this seem worse than it actually is."

"I'm the worst boyfriend ever."

Kenny shook his head, "Where the fuck did that come from. Kyle loves you."

"He stayed over at my place about a year ago and woke up in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare. I promised him that I'd protect him from everything, I probably broke that promise in less than 24 hours!"

"You had no way of knowing what was going on."

"He had bruises all over his fucking face! It was obvious that something was seriously wrong! No one falls down the stairs every day in one week, I should have looked into it! I didn't and I failed him for _three fucking years_! Using him a few weeks ago was just the icing on this shit of a cake."

Kenny gaped at Stan after his outburst.

"I love him so much and I failed him," Stan's voice was no more than a whisper.

Kenny sighed, "Why don't you plan something special for him? Show him how much he means to you."

Stan nodded, "That's a great idea, thanks Kenny."

"No problem, if you need help planning, give me a call."

"Sweet, thanks. Don't tell Kyle, I want to surprise him."

"My lips are sealed."


	5. Chapter 5: A Different Kind of Scar

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 5: A Different Kind of Scar

"Your foster parents are pretty cool."

Stan took his seat on Kyle's bed as his boyfriend set up a film.

"Ike gets on really well with them," Kyle replied, "They share a love of Steinbeck."

"He said that you were pretty hostile to them during dinner on your first night."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "I wasn't that bad, I just told them the heavy stuff about myself."

"It's not just what you do, it's how you do it."

Kyle seemed to consider this as he took a seat next to Stan and cuddled up to him.

"Is everything okay?" Stan asked carefully, "You've been lashing out recently, your temper's been shorter than normal."

Kyle groaned, "I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if it wasn't?"

"Yes. What about you, you've been distant lately."

"Something's been bugging me. But it isn't a big deal."

Kyle laughed, "You're not fooling me with that."

"I'll tell you, when I figure out how."

Kyle frowned, "You should be able to tell me dude. You act all distant towards me and then you say you need to figure out how to tell about whatever it is."

Stan remained silent.

Kyle's face changed to one of realisation and then one of sadness.

"Are you breaking up with me?" His voice was small, fearful. It caught Stan off-guard because he wasn't used to hearing that tone from Kyle.

"No," Stan said sincerely, "I could never do that. I've just been feeling guilty about sleeping with you."

Stan immediately regretted his wording when Kyle leapt up and shouted, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I didn't mean it like that!" Stan said hurriedly, "I'm happy that it was with you…"

"But…" Kyle coaxed as Stan trailed off.

"I used you. You were in a fragile state and I took advantage of that."

Kyle's rage cooled and he cast his eyes to the floor, "You didn't use me. I used you."

Stan was gobsmacked by Kyle's statement, "How?"

"I feel like I used you to forget my troubles, not to be with you."

"You didn't use me. _I_ was the one in a stronger state of mind, _I_ should have stopped it but _I_ didn't and I'm sorry. I really am."

Kyle sighed, "Can we drop this and just agree that next time we have sex we make sure we're certain that it's for the right reasons?"

Stan nodded.

"Okay then, problem solved," Kyle smiled as he sat in Stan's lap and kissed him.

Stan smiled back, this wasn't going to stop his plans.

"I love you," Kyle said softly as he leaned back into Stan.

"I love you too," Stan replied just as softly as he wound his arms around Kyle's waist.

The sat in silence and seemed to be watching the film when Stan asked, "Do you accept my apology?"

"You don't need to apologise," Kyle replied.

"I feel like I do, it kills me to think I used you."

"Yes I accept your apology, now can we drop the subject and watch the movie?"

* * *

Kyle hated going to school so soon after the arrest. He constantly had eyes on him because of his outburst on his first day back, some people tried to get him to have another outburst because they were dickheads. Most of the time he had Stan to keep him in check.

"Hey, Whipping Boy!" Someone shouted as he passed, "Did you get pelted with a belt last night?"

Stan held Kyle's wrist, "Don't rise to it."

The guy who shouted took his own belt off and slapped it into his hand.

Kyle shook Stan off and marched over to the dickhead. The dickhead towered over him as Kyle was only 5'4''. It didn't stop Kyle's fist from meeting his face.

"KYLE!" Stan shouted as he ran over.

Kyle looked at his fist with a look of horror before sprinting off and out of the back doors of the school and down the steps to the ground. Instead of running further he turned to the corner where the steps met the wall of the school and curled into a tight ball. He put his face into his knees and began to shake with sobs.

Stan had lost Kyle in the corridors and out the back was the last place he checked, he heard the sobs and knew immediately that it was his boyfriend. He hopped down and sat next to Kyle, pulling the crying boy close.

"He deserved it," Stan said gently to try and comfort Kyle.

Kyle just buried his face into Stan's shoulder.

"What's wrong? Tell me. You know I'll always be here."

"I wasn't in control," Kyle eventually said, "I wasn't in control when I blew up at Cartman. I didn't want to do either."

Stan thought about how to phrase what he was going to say next, "Well, you've been through a traumatic time."

Kyle looked up at him and nodded.

"I think it might be worth you going to counselling."

"I'm not crazy!" Kyle said vehemently.

"I never said you were," Stan replied calmly, "I had to go when I went into depression when Sparky died. Remember? I was constantly glum and I got angry often, a little bit like you are now."

"I'm not angry!" Kyle's tone completely contradicted his statement.

"I just want you to be okay," Stan said as he took Kyle's ushanka off and nuzzled into his hair, "I'll go with you to each session if you want me to. I'll always stand by you."

"I'll think about it."

Stan nodded as the bell signalling the end of lunch rang.

"We're staying here," Stan said, "You're in no condition to go to class."

Kyle didn't object, he just cuddled closer to Stan.

"Why do you still love me?" He asked softly.

"Because you're amazing," Stan replied.

"How? I'm no better than they were."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Kyle shook his head, "I just punched someone because I got pissed off with them."

"That's not comparable," Stan said, "They did it without being provoked and what they did was much more serious. You were provoked and you've been deeply traumatised by what happened. They were in full control of their actions, you've just admitted that you weren't."

Kyle lay his head back on Stan's shoulder, "I have so much emotional baggage though, I'm just a burden."

"That doesn't mean anything because I love you and because I love you, I'm going to help you through it. Everyone goes through a bad emotional time and yes, yours might be worse than most other people's, but what kind of boyfriend, what kind of super best friend would I be if I left you in your worst time."

"I'm worthless."

As soon as Kyle said that, Stan distinctly remembered seeing the word scarred on his torso.

"You don't really believe that!" Stan said, sounding rather panicked.

"If I died tomorrow, only you and Ike would be upset."

"Kenny would too, as much as he won't admit it so will Cartman."

"Oh wow, two more people," Kyle was clearly sarcastic.

"You're my life Kyle," Stan sounded like he was close to sobbing himself, "If you died then so will a part of me, the best part of me. If you feel like you're worthless, then I'm the one who's worthless because I failed you. I love you so much and you should feel like the most important person in the world. I couldn't get over it if you died, I'm sorry you feel like that and I'm sorry I failed you."

Kyle had broken into a fresh wave of tears upon hearing Stan's speech, "I love you too. You're the best thing I have in my life at the minute."

"Never put yourself down like that again. If your parents have made you feel that way then I swear on my life that I'll change that."

Kyle raised his head and pulled Stan into a deep kiss, "Do you think they'd let us go home and miss the rest of the afternoon if we asked?"

"If we said that you were having some emotional trouble then they probably would."

That was exactly what they did. Stan took Kyle home and went up to his room with him, they didn't do much, just cuddled together and kissed gently. Kyle had become very affectionate and yearned for more affection in return. Stan was more than happy to cater to him.

* * *

 _The belt came down harder and the scream of agony rang out._

 _Kyle was trapped, trapped in a glass box and forced to see his father beat Ike, with each slap came an angry red mark on the Canadian's skin. Gerald was ignoring Kyle's pleas for him to stop, Kyle was shouting as loud as he could, making sure that Gerald could hear. It didn't matter._

 _He failed._

"Kyle!" Stan was shaking him awake, "Kyle wake up!"

Kyle's eyes snapped open and immediately Stan wrapped him in his arms as he broke down completely.

"Everything's okay," Stan whispered, "It was just a dream, nothing more."

Everyone in the house were gathered around the bed, Kyle reached for Ike upon seeing him at the foot of his bed. Ike climbed over and allowed himself to be brought into the hug.

"We've got this now," Stan said to Walter and Mary and they hesitantly left.

"Are you okay?" Ike asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," Kyle answered, "Just a nightmare."

"You were screaming and thrashing around," Ike explained, "You nailed Stan in the face."

"I'm sorry," Kyle said weakly.

"It's fine," Stan said, "It's not like you could help it."

"What were you dreaming about?" Ike asked.

Kyle didn't reply, he didn't exactly want Ike knowing.

"That bad?"

Kyle nodded and held Ike closer whilst snuggling closer to Stan, burying his face in Stan's old T-shirt that he wore to bed. Kyle was wearing one of Stan's old American football jerseys, it even said 'Marsh' on the back.

"Do you want Ike to stay?" Stan asked.

Kyle nodded again and made sure Ike was closest to the wall so that he was the most protected. He allowed himself to be hugged from both sides, by the two people he cared about most.


	6. Chapter 6: The Fragile Mind of Kyle

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 6: The Fragile Mind of Kyle Broflovski

Kyle was nervously fidgeting, no matter how much Stan tried to encourage him. He'd finally taken Stan's advice and decided to go to counselling. Stan had gotten his old therapist's details from his mother and had made an appointment for him because Kyle hadn't wanted to do it himself, to him it was kind of like a resignation.

"If it makes you feel any better," Stan said, "This guy's got a Ph.D."

"Cool," Kyle said, his tone really showed that he didn't want to be there.

"I can come in with you if you'd like, he won't object to that. My mom came in with me for my first few sessions."

"Please?"

Stan nodded, "I'm not Cartman. I won't use it against you."

"If you were Cartman you'd be holding a gun to me to get me to give you my Jew-gold."

"You know what I mean," Stan grinned, "I'd still think there was sunshine coming out your ass if you committed mass genocide."

Kyle chuckled, "Okay, now I think you're the one who needs therapy."

* * *

The therapist's office wasn't very big, a desk was at the back with a couch in front of it and a window at the side. The therapist himself was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and glasses that didn't have rims on the bottom.

"Hello, Dr. Johnson," Stan said as he led Kyle in.

"It's good to see you doing well Stanley," The man smiled as they walked in, "It's been a while since I've seen you here."

"Four years, I was twelve. But we're not here for me this time."

"You said on the phone, this is Kyle?"

Kyle looked up from the floor for the first time and nodded before taking a seat next to Stan on the couch.

"He's nervous," Stan explained, wrapping an arm around Kyle's shoulders, "He didn't really want to come."

"That's understandable," Dr. Johnson said, more to Kyle than Stan, "Many people think that therapy is for psychopaths or lunatics, this isn't the case. Many people go through therapy to help them with difficult times."

Kyle nodded to show he was listening.

"Stanley told me that you were having problems at home, he said it wasn't his place to tell me what. Can you tell me? Nothing you say will leave this room unless you talk about it."

"My parents used to beat me," Kyle said, he didn't care anymore, everyone knew, "It was in the South Park news."

Dr. Johnson nodded, "You don't have to tell me anything unless you're ready. How severe were these beatings?"

Kyle was completely for a minute before he decided to show the man his scars, once again everyone knew, but Kyle didn't want to show them then and he didn't want to now. The bruises were fading, but many of the cuts had long scabs on them.

Dr. Johnson looked flabbergasted for a brief moment before quickly regaining his composure. Stan still hated seeing them and he eventually pulled Kyle's shirt down for him after he gave Dr. Johnson enough time for a good look.

"The main reason you're here is to talk about your emotions," Dr. Johnson said, "These beatings will most likely have some bearing on any emotional issues you may have."

Kyle nodded.

"You can tell me anything you feel comfortable telling me, you don't have to tell me right now. It would definitely help us deal with this faster, but we don't have to rush it."

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek.

"My first five sessions didn't help," Stan said, "I didn't anything, we just sat in silence because I refused to believe I needed help. It's better if you don't do that, I could have gotten better so much sooner."

Dr. Johnson nodded in agreement.

"I have nightmares," Kyle said, "At first they were sporadic, but now I have them every night. They used to be a quick jolt awake and then straight back to sleep but they've gotten worse."

"A few nights ago he was thrashing and screaming," Stan explained, "He's never been that bad before and he hasn't been that bad since. He never told me what the dream was about."

"All the dreams are the same. My parents get my younger brother and do to him what they did to me, I can always see it and I can't do anything."

"Would I be correct in assuming that you're very protective of your younger brother?" Dr. Johnson asked as he took some notes.

Kyle nodded, "I didn't tell anyone about what my parents did for five years because they threatened him. I'd do anything for Ike."

"You naturally have a very strong fraternal instinct and this translates into your dreams. You have been traumatised by what your parents did, again quite understandable. How do you make it worse? By putting your brother in your place and making you powerless to prevent it. Can you remember what it was like to meet your brother for the first time?"

"It's one of my earliest memories," Kyle replied, "My mom brought him home and let me hold him when he was six. He was adopted and a few months old but I didn't know that. She made me promise to always protect him and always be there for him. It's the one promise I'll never go back on."

"Your dreams also come from that, breaking that promise is one of your biggest fears and your head plays on it. This makes the nightmare unbearable. You clearly haven't been getting much sleep."

It was true, Kyle's eyes had large bags under them.

"I don't want to see Ike getting hurt like that. So I try to stay awake."

"That's not good for you Kyle," Stan said.

"Do you still live with your parents?" Dr. Johnson asked.

"They've been arrest and sentenced," Kyle answered.

"Who do you live with now?"

"A foster family."

"A lot of change in a short time can make dealing with trauma difficult."

Kyle nodded.

"How do you feel usually?"

"Sometimes I feel okay, most days I don't want to get up. Some of those days I just stay in bed and do nothing, then I get pissed off at myself for wasting a day doing fuck all."

Dr. Johnson just nodded and took some notes.

"Sometimes I just can't concentrate on anything at all."

"He's always had a short temper," Stan explained, "But recently he's been set off at the drop of a hat and some days he's just pissed off the whole time."

"Sometimes I feel like the words on my chest are correct."

Stan looked at him in alarm but Dr. Johnson motioned for him to continue.

"I'm worthless because only two people would care if I died and all I am is a burden. I'm a failure because I couldn't make my own parents proud of me, even though they're supposed to always be proud of me. I'm a faggot because I'm gay. I'm a slut because I used sex with my boyfriend to forget about my problems instead of doing it because I love him more than anything. I'm a complete fuck-up and the world would be better off without me in it."

Stan's eyes had filled with tears and he tightened his arm's grip on Kyle, "You're none of those things."

Dr. Johnson finished writing down notes, "I think we know what the problem is now. In fact I think Stanley can diagnose it as well."

Stan looked up, "Depression?"

"Indeed, and a serious case at that."

"Kyle told me that he'd considered suicide before."

"That's because of the depression."

"He also said that he couldn't control himself when he had two outbursts in school, once where he lost it and showed everyone his torso in a fit of rage with someone else and another time when he broke someone's cheekbone when they made fun of his ordeal."

"Reckless actions are again, a symptom of depression."

"I'm not depressed!" Kyle exploded, "Depression is just an excuse for when people are feeling lazy and they can't be assed doing anything!"

"And spending a whole day doing fuck all isn't lazy?" Stan asked.

Kyle was floored by the argument and he didn't know how to respond.

"Do you still consider suicide?" Stan asked quietly.

Kyle blinked a few times before nodding slowly.

"That puts anti-depressants to the side for now," Dr. Johnson said, "The best thing for Kyle to do before next week's session is to talk about how you are feeling often, I'm assuming the best person for you to talk about this with is Stanley?"

Kyle nodded.

"And you must get him to talk about it," Dr. Johnson said to Stan, "No matter how much it hurts for you to hear. Talking about suicidal thoughts can save lives."

* * *

They were allowed to leave after that, Kyle was silent until they reached the car.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled.

"What for?" Stan asked, "You haven't done anything."

"For being an asshole about when you were depressed, because I didn't think it was an actual condition. Now I'm depressed. Oh fortune, how you mock me."

"It's in the past now, it was four years ago. Don't worry about it."

"I'm just letting you know."

* * *

 _Stan trudged through the corridors to his maths lesson. He took his usual seat next to Kyle, who was sitting awkwardly but seemed worried about him._

 _The teacher was collecting the homework due in that lesson she reached Stan and he sat motionless._

" _Where is your homework Stanley?"_

" _Didn't do it," Stan said monotonously._

" _And why not?"_

" _Been doctor's. Said I have depression."_

 _The teacher gave him a piteous stare and went to the front of the classroom to start teaching._

" _That depression excuse was great," Kyle laughed as they walked home, "She completely let you off."_

" _It wasn't an excuse," Stan said._

" _Bullshit," Kyle said, "Everyone knows depression is just an excuse."_

 _Stan dug around in his pocket, he pulled out an orange tub that he gave to Kyle._

" _Prozac?" Kyle read, "So you're a junkie now?"_

" _Doc says I should take two every day, I haven't taken one yet. I don't need them."_

 _Kyle raised his arm as if to throw it._

" _Don't. Doc'll be pissed."_

 _Kyle didn't and gave it back, "You're a really good actor."_

" _I'm not acting."_

" _Yeah, okay. Bullshit me like that. I don't fucking care."_

* * *

 **I pulled the whole therapy session out of my arse. I did some research on the symptoms of depression, so I should have some of it right at the very least. Tell me if I haven't and I'll make changes accordingly. I don't think it was appropriate to be listening to Aquarium Park from Sonic Colours as I wrote this.**


	7. Chapter 7: The Only Light

**This chapter might seem a bit rushed, I wanted to get it out before Saturday because I go on holiday and I won't have any internet.**

* * *

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 7: The Only Light

Kyle was being shaken awake when he wasn't even asleep, he sighed and rolled over to see his boyfriend standing over him, he blinked at him disinterestedly before rolling back over. Stan kissed his cheek gently before sitting himself down on the bed.

"I got you something," Stan whispered, but Kyle could place the hurt in his tone.

Kyle forced himself to sit up and Stan placed a binder in his lap, there was a laminated label stuck to the front.

 _To the one I love most_

Kyle opened the binder to see it filled with photos of the two of them, from when they were really young all the way up to as recent as a few weeks ago with extra space for photos to be entered, he turned it to the back to see another laminated label on the back cover.

 _Just remember_

 _I'll always be there_

Kyle looked up at Stan who was blushing and looking sheepish. He grabbed the raven-haired teen by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss, tangling their tongues together and leaving Stan breathless.

"Lock the door," Kyle whispered in Stan's ear.

Stan's eyes widened and he stared into Kyle's eyes, "Are you sure."

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life," Kyle replied, "I love you Stan."

Stan pulled their lips back together and kissed Kyle fervently before getting up to lock the door. When he got back on the bed he lay his forehead against Kyle's.

"If you're only doing this because I got you a gift," Stan whispered, "Stop now."

"I'm doing it because you made me feel loved," Kyle replied, "I want to make you feel that way."

Kyle re-initiated the kiss and pulled Stan down on top of him.

* * *

Stan pulled Kyle against his bare chest and nuzzled him softly, he pressed light kisses to the back of Kyle's neck.

"Did you make that by yourself?" Kyle asked.

"Obviously I bought the binder," Stan smiled, pride seeping into his voice, "But I gathered all the photos and put them into chronological order, I started about two weeks ago."

Kyle rolled over and kissed Stan softly, "I've been feeling so shitty lately, but that made me feel important."

"You always have been."

"You're the only one who makes me feel that way," Kyle sighed as he snuggled into Stan's chest.

"And you're certain it was okay for me to do it."

"You're asking me that now?"

Stan nodded sheepishly.

"It was fine, it felt amazing."

"Good, you need to feel amazing every now and then."

"I hadn't felt amazing for a while," Kyle admitted, "When I'm with you, I feel things that I don't feel with anyone else. When I'm with you, I feel important, I feel at least a shred of anything resembling happiness and I feel safe. You're the only one who gives me those feelings."

"We'll work on it," Stan said, "You'll be able feel those things without me eventually, especially being safe."

Kyle just nuzzled Stan's chest.

"I've been through what you're going through," Stan reminded him, "I know how it feels and I'm going to help you past it."

"I know," Kyle answered so that Stan knew that he was listening.

Stan pressed a soft kiss to the back of his ear.

They lay together in silence for a while.

"Can you pass me a shirt?" Kyle asked, "Having my body uncovered for so long is making me uncomfortable."

Stan just reached down and picked up a random shirt from the floor, as it turned out it was actually his own.

"Having my shirt on is a good look for you," Stan smirked playfully.

"It is comfy," Kyle admitted, "I may have to steal a few."

The shirt was big on him, coming down past his crotch.

"I think it's cute," Stan chuckled, earning him a swat from Kyle.

"You know that's the worst compliment for a guy."

"I can't help it if seeing you like that makes want to cuddle you forever."

"If being cute does that then I guess I don't mind."

* * *

Stan woke up and looked at the clock to read 6:30, they'd been asleep for three hours. He lightly shook Kyle awake. The Jew just whined and snuggled closer to his boyfriend.

"C'mon Kyle," Stan said softly, "We can go to Shakey's. My treat."

"Can I leave your shirt on?" Kyle asked.

Stan nodded.

He ended up just wearing his jacket with nothing underneath, his shirt was longer than Kyle's jacket and could been seen coming out from the bottom of it.

They shared a pizza between them, but Kyle just nibbled on his slice.

"You not hungry?" Stan asked after finishing his second slice.

"I just don't have much of an appetite."

Stan looked at him with concern, "Eat two slices at least, you know that you have to eat because you're diabetic."

The pizza was cut into eighths, Kyle wasn't sure he could eat a whole quarter but he tried to for Stan, he ended up eating a slice and a half.

"Don't starve yourself," Stan said as they got back into his car.

"I won't," Kyle replied.

Stan caught the disinterest in Kyle's voice, "I'm serious."

"So am I. Now drop it."

Stan sighed, "Sorry for helping."

"You know that passive-aggressive shit won't work on me asshole."

Stan smiled, at least he still had his fiery temper.

* * *

Ike huffed, his brother wouldn't budge. He was trying to get him up for school and was failing, he'd shaken him, fired an air horn in the air and jumped on his bed and Kyle was still in bed.

A light bulb went off in his head and he strolled into the bathroom. He chuckled as he ran a washcloth under the cold tap and wrung it out so that it didn't drip.

"IKE!" Kyle bellowed as the Canadian applied it to his face.

"You need to get ready for school," Ike said innocently.

"I'm not going," Kyle replied shortly, curling himself back into the mass of blankets on his bed.

"What about your AP classes?"

"What about them?"

"You'll be too far behind if you don't go."

Kyle shrugged before making a shooing movement with his hand.

"Fine," Ike huffed, "Prove mom and dad right."

"That was a low blow," Kyle grumbled under his breath as he hauled himself out of bed.

Ike was still standing at the doorway to make sure he got up.

"That Stan's shirt?" Ike snickered.

Kyle looked down at the shirt, "Yes. Now fuck off so I can go shower."

* * *

Kyle had been rushed out and he hadn't had breakfast. He took a ride up to school with Stan like usual and went to each of his classes, although he often lost concentration. He sat with Stan, Kenny and Cartman at lunch.

"You gonna eat that?" Kenny asked, pointing to Kyle's untouched tray.

"No," Kyle replied, pushing it over to Kenny.

"You've got to eat Kyle," Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.

Kyle rolled his eyes and Stan didn't push it, his face showed his irritation.

Kenny couldn't afford to buy a school meal, so he wasn't going to reject free food.

"Just because I'm not eating doesn't mean I'm starving myself," Kyle glared at Stan, "Maybe I'm unwell."

"Alright fine," Stan held his hands up, "I'm just trying to stop you from making the same mistakes I did."

"I won't make those mistakes."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Maybe I don't need it."

"Fine then."

"Fine."

Stan got up and stormed out of the canteen. Kyle just folded his arms.

Cartman leaned over and nudged Kenny, "Twenty bucks that they screw before the end of lunch."

The bell went soon after, Kyle swayed as he stood but he regained his composure.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked.

"Fine," Kyle replied.

* * *

Kyle had maths after lunch and he kept having dizzy spells, he was sitting down so no one noticed.

"Kyle, why don't you solve this equation."

Kyle stood and walked to the front of the room, as soon as he took the whiteboard pen from the teacher his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell.

He blacked out before he hit the ground.


	8. Chapter 8: Restarting to Rebuild

**This story's back after a long wait and there's only two more chapters to go.**

* * *

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 8: Restarting to Rebuild

Kyle lifted his eyelids, they felt like weights and his vision was blurred. He saw a blurred squiggle and he blinked to regain focus in vain. He registered a gentle grip on his hand

"Oh thank fuck," He heard from beside him and felt a gentle press on his lips, his eyes were beginning to refocus.

Kyle groaned as he attempted to sit up, but he was instantly pushed back down. His weak muscles cried in protest but he fell back feebly.

"Don't sit up," The voice said, it was very familiar, "You need to rest."

Kyle's vision focused and he saw Stan sitting next to him, he'd clearly been crying. Kyle tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse so he didn't bother.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Stan sighed and cuddled him as well as he could, "I thought I lost you."

It was at this point that Kyle noticed the drip in his arm.

"You were dehydrated when you got here, you have to stay for two days at the least."

"I'm sorry," Kyle croaked.

"I'm sorry too," Stan replied and kissed his forehead.

"You're just trying to help, I pushed you away because I'm too stubborn to accept help."

"If you'd have died where we left off, I couldn't live with it. I'd have died too."

Kyle attempted to squeeze Stan's hand but it was weak, Stan squeezed back and rubbed his knuckles with his thumb.

"I love you," Kyle said.

"I love you too," Stan replied.

"I'm trying to deal with my shit alone and I can't do it. I can't do it Stan."

"Hey, hey," Stan's heart leapt when he saw Kyle start to cry, "It's okay, I'm here Kyle. You don't need to get upset."

"Help me Stan, please."

Stan pulled Kyle's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, "Of course I will."

Kyle was still weak when he moved his hand but Stan let him move it from his lips to his cheek and pull him over to kiss his lips. When they broke apart and Stan moved to sit back down, Kyle held him as tightly as he could in a hug.

"Stay with me," Kyle whispered.

"I wasn't going yet," Stan smiled.

"I mean while I'm in here, stay with me while I'm in here."

Stan kissed his cheek softly, "I'll stay with you for longer than that."

"Why do you stay with me?" Kyle asked softly.

"Because I love you," Stan replied.

"Why?"

"Because you're an amazing person who's had it tough."

"I'm not," Kyle cast his eyes down to his lap.

Stan smiled and lifted Kyle's face up to lock eyes with him, "They made you think that Kyle, but you are."

Kyle frowned.

"I know it's difficult to believe," Stan rubbed Kyle's cheek with his thumb, "But I'd only tell you the truth."

"Can you help me feel like you're telling the truth?"

Stan pressed his lips to Kyle's, "Of course."

* * *

Four weeks later, things weren't looking so rosy.

Stan walked into Kyle's room, "What the fuck?"

Kyle looked up disinterestedly, "What?"

"You haven't been going to therapy for two weeks! You're supposed to go every day!"

Kyle shrugged, "There's no point."

"Fucking hell Kyle! I understand that it hurts…"

"You don't," Kyle growled.

"I don't what?"

You don't understand!" The volume of Kyle's voice was gradually rising, "You don't understand what it's like to have everyone's eyes on you because they know what happened, you don't understand what it's like to have teachers look at you with pity! You don't understand what's like to have parents who hated you and never showed any remorse for their sick discipline! You went into depression because your dog died, even though you could just buy another!"

"What the fuck Kyle?" Stan frowned, "You know how much I loved Sparky."

"You don't know the true meaning of pain!"

"Kyle…"

"Leave me alone," Kyle whirled around, turning his back to Stan, "I give up."

"You don't mean that!"

"I do. If you can accept that, then leave."

"Kyle, you can get through this."

"Get out, you're not accepting it."

"Kyle," Stan's voice was soft.

"Out."

Stan sighed and left the room, deciding that giving his boyfriend space was best.

Kyle stood still for a full five minutes until he realised what he'd done. He threw himself onto his bed and let his pillow swallow his tears.


	9. Chapter 9: Coming Together

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 9: Coming Together

"Is everything okay?" Mary asked when Kyle came down for dinner, "Stanley left earlier looking a bit upset."

"We had an argument," Kyle sighed as he took his seat.

Mary nodded in understanding, "I'm sure everything will be okay."

"I don't know," Kyle held back tears, "I was really harsh to him."

"Stan won't break up with you," Ike said from his side of the table, "He loves you too much."

Kyle just fiddled with his food when it was set in front of him.

"You not hungry Kyle?" Walter asked as he walked into the kitchen, having just returned from work.

"Worried," Kyle replied, glumly.

"He had an argument with Stanley," Mary explained.

"You guys are going to be fine," Walter smiled at him. If this was soon after the Broflovskis had arrived, Kyle would have received a clap on the shoulder. That stopped after the first time because Kyle flinched.

"I hope so," Kyle appreciated the sentiment.

"Do you want to be excused," Mary asked, they knew how Kyle's experience had affected him and how there were times that he had little appetite.

"Yes please," Kyle nodded.

"I'll heat this later if you want it."

"Thank you."

Kyle lay in his room with the lights off, tears were silently running down his cheeks. He did something that he didn't do often, but he prayed that Stan would forgive him.

* * *

"Are you're okay Stan?" Kenny asked as Stan sunk the basketball.

"I'm fine," Stan replied as he passed the ball to Cartman.

"You haven't spoken to Kyle all week."

"I'm fine, Kyle just needs some space. I haven't broken up with him or anything."

"He just looks really glum."

"He has for three years," Cartman deadpanned.

Stan sighed.

"Why does he need space?" Kenny saw Stan's change in mood.

"He blew up last week," Stan explained solemnly, "He said he's given up on trying to recover."

"Well then he needs you more than ever."

* * *

Kyle had gone for a walk, he had his hands shoved in his pockets and his head down. His overall posture sagged and his steps were slow. He ignored everyone around him, pushing through people who were stood in pairs. He came up to the basketball courts and stopped, looking at his three friends, the ones he'd pushed away.

"He blew up last week. He said he's given up on trying to recover."

"Well then he needs you more than ever."

"How do you know?" Stan frowned.

"Well he's been staring at us for the last two minutes."

Stan turned and locked eyes with Kyle, who shuffled uncomfortably.

"Can we talk?" Kyle asked nervously.

Stan's eyes softened, "Of course."

* * *

Stan walked with Kyle to Stark's Pond.

"What do you want to talk about?" Stan didn't sound angry in the slightest.

"Are you still my boyfriend?"

Stan smiled at him, "I love you Kyle, the only reason I wouldn't be is if you broke up with me."

Kyle's face broke into a look of relief and he hugged his boyfriend, "I love you too."

"I just kept away this week because it's difficult to hear you put yourself down and give up like that. You need to keep fighting Kyle."

Kyle was sobbing and he buried his face into Stan's chest, "I'm trying Stan, I really am."

"I know," Stan pulled Kyle's ushanka off and nuzzled his hair.

"It's so hard."

"I know," Stan lifted Kyle's face to speak to him, "But I'm here, Kenny can help, fatass wants you to get better because insulting you feels empty when you're like this."

"Can you stay over later?" Kyle wiped his eyes as he asked the question.

Stan nodded.

"I think I'll go home now," Kyle said as he pulled his ushanka back on.

"Or you could come and play basketball with us," Stan grinned, "We can beat Kenny and fatass like we used to."

"I'd like that," Kyle replied with a small smile.

"C'mon then," Stan laughed.

* * *

Stan ran back to the courts, dragging Kyle behind him.

"We got a new player!" Stan shouted as they turned the corner.

Kenny smiled at Kyle, "Good to have you back buddy."

"Show us your old skill Jewboy!" Cartman smirked.

Kyle picked up the ball and grinned, "You got it fatass!"


	10. Chapter 10: Cycle

Beaten, Battered, Bruised

Chapter 10: Cycle

"Jason," The receptionist said, "It's time for your session."

The teenager frowned and followed her into a room where a man wearing a white shirt and a bottle-green sweater was sitting behind a desk, there was a couch in front of the desk.

"Good afternoon Jason," The man said, he held out a hand for a handshake but it went ignored, "Take a seat."

Jason did as he was told.

"I've been given a short rundown of what happened from your school counsellor. But I want you to try and tell me as much as you can. If you don't want to tell me everything, that's okay, we'll work towards it."

"I don't want to be here."

"I know," The man's eyes glinted behind his glasses, "But I think it would help."

"How would you know? You've never been through something like this," Jason growled.

The man remained calm.

"Fuck this shit," Jason sighed, "I'm going home."

He could hear the man stand behind him.

"Five minutes, then you can leave."

Jason turned, "What makes you think you understand?"

The man lifted his shirt showing off his torso.

 _Failure_

 _Worthless_

 _Faggot_

 _Slut_

The words were red on the man's chest and they stuck out from his pale skin.

"Where do you think I got these from?" The man asked, "Very similar to your case."

"Your parents?"

"Ten years ago," The man confirmed.

Jason came back and sat down, "You had it much worse."

"Doesn't make your case any less significant," The man said, "Why do you think I'm in this profession? To help those who have been forced to go through what I went through."

"Okay Dr…"

"Marsh."

"Dr. Marsh, you know how I can recover?"

"I think I do. It will be tough, I've been through this process and I nearly gave up so many times. I'm lucky I had my boyfriend to stick by me."

Jason nodded.

"You'll need people to help out, people who care."

Dr. Marsh lifted a lime-green ushanka that resided on his head to wipe his brow.

"I'll let you help."

Dr. Marsh smiled, "We don't have to go over your ordeal right now if you want, we can get to know each other better so we're better prepared for next week."

"I'd like that," Jason nodded.

"You can ask me anything."

"You're gay?"

Dr. Marsh laughed, "And married. My husband is the boyfriend I mentioned earlier."

"I have a girlfriend, but I don't think she's willing to deal with this."

"Then she isn't worth your time, right now, you need support and if she isn't willing to provide that, don't concern yourself with her."

Jason nodded, "I don't want to break up with her though."

"You should try and talk it through with her first. She might be willing to support you."

Dr. Marsh's watch beeped, "That's the end of your hour, it was nice meeting you."

Jason nodded.

"Same time next week?"

He received another nod in response.

* * *

Dr. Marsh could see his husband's car in the driveway when he got home, he opened the door and could hear the oven from the kitchen.

"I'm home," He smiled as he opened the door.

"Hey Kyle," His husband returned the smile, "How was your day?"

"You won't believe it Stan," Kyle said, "My last appointment was with someone who had abusive parents."

Stan turned his attention from the pan, "What?"

"I felt like I was talking to myself from ten years ago, it was surreal."

"You okay?" Stan asked, "Did it bring back bad memories?"

"Not really," Kyle shrugged, "But I want to help the kid."

"Ike dropped by," Stan said, he usually had Fridays off, "He said that your parents want to see the both of you."

"Ike's twenty," Kyle said, "He can do what he wants, I'm not stepping within sixty feet of them. I _never_ want to see them again."

Stan walked over to give his husband a kiss on the cheek, "I understand."

"What do you think I should do?"

Stan thought for a second, "I don't know, I've never been in the situation."

"I don't want anything to do with them."

"Then don't," Stan shrugged, "It's your life."

* * *

Kyle looked at himself in the mirror after his shower, he still had many of his scars, but they didn't hurt anymore.

* * *

 **That's the end of Beaten, Battered, Bruised. I made the time skip now because if we were to see Kyle go through his recovery again, it would just be me repeating myself and I'm having trouble thinking up new stuff for it (see the shorter length of the the last three chapters). I did enjoy writing this, it was something different, but I did prefer writing Dysfunctional.**


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